


The House Guest

by NomadicPixel



Series: The House Guest [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NomadicPixel/pseuds/NomadicPixel
Summary: Summary: AU. You and Bucky were best friends when you were younger, your family moved away.  He’s in town for a visit, and he is far from the boy you remember.





	1. The House Guest - Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: Please Please Please…Don’t read this if you’re not 18 or older. *You shouldn’t even be looking at this if you’re not at least 18.* Also, thank you to the ABSOLUTELY AMAZING @mycapt-ohcapt for her support and beta-reading this story. It wouldn’t be half as good without her. Also to @theycallmebecca for the encouragement (she is also the one who egged me on to post early, folks).

GIf [Originally posted by captaincentenarian](https://tmblr.co/ZMNc-g2PlyA7o)

His arrival validated that you didn’t know what you were signing up for.  Not in the least.

Bucky arrived looking like a beach bum in a ratty old hoodie, jeans, flip flops and a dark leather jacket. An incredibly sexy, well built beach bum.  The round baby face of your childhood friend had given way to a strong, defined jaw covered in day old stubble.  

His hair stuck up in all directions, as it always had, though he must have been tugging at it while he drove. When he’d had hair like that as a kid, Winnie, his mom, used to chase him around with a hair brush, ordering him to sit still so she could make him ‘presentable.’  It also doubled as a paddle when he started to act up.  Which was often.

Yeah, he was still the boy you knew, but with upgrades. So many of them. Bucky 2.0 had broad, muscular shoulders, a defined chest and bulging biceps, and thighs were so thick that his jeans stretched across them.

The large, well loved duffel bag he’d been toting dropped to the floor. You were greeted with a dimpled smile and open arms.

“Hey! It’s been too long!” He crushed you with a bear hug, picking you up and spinning you around. He lingered, squeezing you a little longer and closer than what would be appropriate for anyone else.

He smelled amazing. Like sea salt and leather.

“Hey Buck,” you greeted, having to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. The last time you saw him you two were the same height, and Bucky could blow away in a strong wind.

He towered over you with his hands on your shoulders, hovering close, causing a shiver to race down your spine.  Bright blue eyes darted over you, taking you in. “You look fantastic. Those braces eventually did their job.  Too bad they couldn’t fix the rest of your face!”

You shoved him away, mouth open in mock shock.“Nice manners, bub. You greet all your friends like that?”  

He clutched his chest in mock innocence.  “Me? You know full well my dear sweet mother would never suffer such behavior.” He nodded, gave you a cheeky smile, and slung his arm around your shoulder.

“Unfortunately for you, she’s not here to protect you, I know you’ll never rat me out.”  He pinched the weak spot under your arm, causing you to stumble a step forward. 

You elbowed him in the ribs, knocking his arm away, and stalked from the entryway to the living room. “How was the drive?” you asked, unable to stop from glowering up at him while you rubbed your underarm.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends. “I really should have shipped my car out here, and caught a flight.  The drive was was long and boring. I didn’t even get to have any kicks on Route 66,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

Your head tilted in thought. “Wait, what?  I thought you were takin’ I-80?”

He shot you a cocky grin. “Why do you always want to ruin my stories? Huh?” he asked, poking you in the side.  

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little shove.  “Stop making shit up and I’ll stop callin’ yah out on it, dumbass.”

He plunked down onto the sofa and stretched his legs out, making himself at home. Ignoring your comment, he continued.  “Did you know tumbleweeds are a real thing?  I saw more than a few on the way here. One was bigger than I am tall. Swear to God!” he exclaimed, raising one hand over his head.

You tilted your head back and laughed, sitting on the armrest of the couch.  Clearly he’d decided to take the scenic route. “Well why don’t you take off your jacket and stay a while, then?”

You gave him a quick tour of your tiny apartment, pointing out the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom, before circling back to the couch he’d be sleeping on.    

“Wait…I’m sleeping on the couch? With that big fluffy looking bed in there being nearly empty? That doesn’t seem fair.”  
  
You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips.  “Well, maybe if you’d given me more than a few days notice I could have gotten a futon or something for you.  You’ll just need to chalk this up to a learning experience, and suffer on the couch.” You walked back to said couch, sitting down and making yourself comfortable.  “This princess needs her Beautyrest,” you teased, pressing your hand over your heart.

He sat on the couch next to you, crossing one ankle over his knee as he turned to you. “You know, we could always…share….the bed,” he teased, poking your side.

You quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Oh hell no.  Not after last time.” You shuddered at the memory from your childhood.  You two had ended up crashing together after a Met’s game. It had  _not_ been a pleasant experience.  

He had the good graces to blush red at the reference to the night in question.

And so it went. The two of you fell into your old rapport of jokes and teasing. A pizza was ordered. 

Two old friends drank beer and chatted about everything and nothing until the early hours in the morning.


	2. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post. Hopefully I'll have time to post the remaining chapters soon. :) 
> 
> Thanks everyone!  
> \---------------

The smell of bacon crept under the door the next morning, calling to you in your sleep. The muted sounds of clanging pots and pans drew you to the kitchen.

Bucky, in nothing but his boxer briefs, was cooking scrambled eggs. He grinned at you over his shoulder, giving you a wink; the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk, and went back to cooking. The tiny boxers hid nothing. They were so tight you could watch the flex of all his muscles as he moved.

You had to shake your head to clear all sexual thoughts of him.

_This is Buck. He ate the worms from his mud pies when you were kids._

_This is the kid that got three pencils stuck up one nostril on a dare in 2nd grade._

_He drank jalapeno juice from a can in middle school for a five dollar bet._

_This is the Bucky who wet the bed at age 10 after too many sodas at that Mets game._

_Dear god this is the same guy who, when you two camped as kids, would wake you up with the worlds nastiest, eye watering farts._

_Yep. There it is. The off switch._ Bucky’s farts could kill anything in a five block radius and apparently that included your libido.

You walked over to the fridge, grabbed the milk, and began your morning ritual. Step one, remove a mug, no, two mugs, from the cupboard. Step two, brew coffee. Step three, milk and sugar till you can barely taste said coffee.

“How do you take your coffee, Buck?” you murmured, popping a pod into the machine to start a cup, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He chuckled and crowed, “Black as my soul, doll.” He laughed again, flipping the omelette he was making.

He was always so happy in the morning. When you’d camp as kids, he’d be the first one up, shaking you awake so you could see some frog he found, or a bird, or whatever really cool rock he saw that he’d wanted to share.

You had always been one to love your sleep, especially when you hit your early tweens. He’d run into your house, wave to your mom, and be the one to drag you out of bed on the weekends. Not always on the first try, but with with years of experience, he became a master at evading your wild punches of protest. He was always so agile, able to tickle and dodge your sluggish defenses until you agreed to get out of bed.

Bucky was nothing if not persistent.

He was also the only one who could get away with it. His sunny disposition was contagious, and you could never find yourself truly angry with him. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t tease him, though.

“So you want it half cream, twelve sugars and a dash of cinnamon?” You teased, punctuating your question with a shit eating grin, then starting the second pod in the machine.

His mouth fell open in shock, pointing at you with the spatula. “Hey, missy. It’s been a while, you don’t know me that well anymore.” He flipped the omelette onto a plate like a chef, and bent to pull the bacon out of the oven, his perfect ass on display, the spandex in his Calvin’s earning its keep. “I could be dark. I could be broody, damnit!”

_Mets game…Eye watering farts…must not look…_

He rested the bacon tray on the stove and turned to face you, a hand on each hip.

_He’s framing it now. How am I supposed to NOT look?_

You turned back to the mugs, prepping one cup the way you loved it.

It was going to be a long day.


	3. The House Guest - Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is short but sweet. I received a very nice comment that reminded me to post last night. Thank you so much! I wasn't sure anyone was following along here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: AU. You and Bucky were best friends when you were younger, your family moved away. He’s in town for a visit, and he is far from the boy you remember.

“Jamie, you couldn’t be emo if you tried,” you teased, turned to pat him on the cheek and giggled. “So let me ask you again, how do you want your coffee?”

His nose crinkled at the dreaded nickname of his early childhood. You knew how much he hated being called Jamie, but the teasing and banter you had as children kept coming back to both of you.

It was as if no time had passed.

Well, except for the fact that your knob kneed best friend from childhood was now built like a gigantic Calvin Klein underwear model.

Bucky after too much Chili…must resist…

He sighed and started plating up the food he’d cooked. “Make you an awesome breakfast and all I get is shit and abuse.” He shook his head in mock self pity, tilting his nose up. “I can see when I’m not wanted,” he joked, his voice going up in pitch, doing a well-practiced impression of his sister, Becca.

You stood at the counter, drumming your fingers, waiting for his response. “I’ll just have to pack my things and go home,” he called over his shoulder, flipping his imaginary long hair as he strutted across the kitchen to the table, an exaggerated sway to his hips. The two of you used to mock/mimic Rebecca about this constantly.

Some things never change.

He giggled as he set down the plates, eventually answering you about the coffee. “Same as you is fine.”

You cackled at his antics, falling forward and bracing your hands on your knees as you laughed, not paying attention to the precarious situation with your loose tank top and sleep shorts. When you looked up you saw Bucky suddenly plunk into his chair, full eyebrows hitting his hairline.

You finished making coffee in silence, putting away the milk before grabbing the mugs and heading to the table. Breakfast was quiet as you two tucked in, inhaling the rich feast without speaking. 

Bucky, having finished first, leaned back and patted his flat belly. “Damn, I cook a good breakfast.” He grinned, eyes glinting as he stared at the remnants of breakfast on your plate, lingering on the perfectly crisp bacon.

You nodded as you snatched your last piece, stuffing it into your mouth before he could steal it. “You turned into a fantastic cook. That’s it, you’re on kitchen duty for the rest of your stay!” You sighed happily and started to stand, clearing the dirty dishes from the table.

“That’s fine. I guess I’ve gotta earn my keep somehow,” he chuckled, in his deep throaty tenor.

“So what’dya wanna do today?” you asked, bending over while you loaded the dishwasher. He didn’t respond.

You looked over your shoulder to see Bucky staring wide eyed at you. “What, do I have spinach in my teeth or something?” You stood upright, walking back to him. 

His knee hit the table in a fast attempt to cross his legs, ending with a groan.

You put your hand on his bare shoulder. “Buck, you look flushed, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, um, why don’t we get our day started? I have some apartments to look at, and thought you could help me vet them?” He looked up at you with crystal blue puppy dog eyes. It was impossible to say no. “You know how delicate I am. If I end up in a bad neighborhood, my Mom will have your hide.”


	4. The House Guest - Chapter 5

Bucky insisted on driving his car so he could learn your city.  Google maps provided you with the directions to each apartment.  However, each one was worse than the last.

The first apartment was advertised as a studio overlooking the beach.  They didn’t mention you’d have to stand on the kitchen counter and squint around a corner and between two buildings to see it.  

You turned to Bucky, whose face was lined with worry. “Does this place come with binoculars?”

He giggled, his nose scrunching up adorably. “Nope, and that closet isn’t big enough to hide a body.”

“That’s not a closet, Buck.  That’s your kitchen.”

* * *

The second apartment smelled like cat pee, and the paint was flaking off the walls.  He stepped in, gagged, turned around and walked back out again.

“Yep, that’s not going to work at all.”

* * *

You didn’t go to the third apartment.  One look at the address was enough to tell you that wasn’t going to happen.  

Instead, you took him to lunch at your favorite diner, knowing full well he was going to fall in love with their cheeseburgers.

He groaned around a biteful of burger, giving you a look that was just shy of panty dropping before swallowing.  “This burger is better than sex. Why have you been HIDING this from me?” he accused, giving the burger a look of abject adoration.  “So selfish,” he whispered to his lunch, taking a sip of his Coke.

“Selfish?  You’re the one that couldn’t be bothered to come visit me. Leaving me out here on my own, no family to speak of. I’m a delicate flower, and I’ve had to learn to protect myself.”

He snorted, swirling a fry in ketchup while looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “If I recall, you were the one who threw Robbie Walsh over your shoulder when he tried to grope you.”

You laughed, remembering Robbie’s face when he got laid out on the playground. “He shouldn’t have tried to take my virtue. Besides, you didn’t step up to protect me.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he motioned to you, using his fry as a pointer.  “You had it handled.”

* * *

After lunch you headed to the fourth apartment. It was oddly utilitarian, the kitchen done entirely in stainless steel, and appeared to be soundproofed.  

Bucky walked into the kitchen.  “So this must be where Dexter hung the plastic, makes for quick and easy disposal,” he teased.

“BUCK!” you whisper-yelled.  “The landlord is in the next room.  He’ll think you’re serious.  You can’t SAY stuff like that.”

You were right.  The two of you were quickly and quietly asked to leave.

* * *

The last apartment seemed perfect.  Beautiful brickwork, with hardwood floors throughout. Lofted ceilings with exposed beams. It was a split level, with an open floor plan and generous kitchen.

Mike, the landlord, was giving you the tour.  It felt like an abridged tour, as he seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. Not that it mattered. You decided if Bucky didn’t take the apartment, you might take it yourself.

The bedroom was large, with a reading bench built into a nook.  The exposed beams carried into the bright master.  Looking up at the ceiling, it almost seemed like it had been laid out for a specific purpose.

And you couldn’t help yourself, it was time to have some fun.

“Hey Bucky! Check out this beam placement! You can finally have that sex swing you were talking about at lunch.”

His head whipped over to look at you, face ripe with mortification, as the landlord was standing beside him at the time. “No, no I said no such thing! What are you talking about?” he rambled, his ears turning red as a coke bottle.

Before Mike had the opportunity to excuse himself, it started.

The drums. Loud banging, crashing, and pounding coming from the apartment next door.  The beat so loud and heavy, it was as if you were front row centre at a rock concert.  

Mike glared at his watch, and muttered “right on time.”

“Well, at least the drums will mask the loud moans and rattling chains,” you deadpanned.

Bucky shook his head, tapping his lips with his index finger, and turned to the landlord. “Do you know how much weight those beams are rated for?”

“Seriously?” Mike asked eagerly, hoping that perhaps he’d finally gotten a sucker to take the place.

“No, but thanks for your time, Man.  Let me know if Ringo next door ever moves out,” he joked, shaking his hand.

It was then that you two decided some additional research would need to be done before Bucky picked a place to live.  


End file.
